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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26993053">Like a moth to a flame</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sierraadeux/pseuds/sierraadeux'>sierraadeux</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cryptids, Dan is Mothman, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Angst with a happy ending, Mythical Beings &amp; Creatures, Phil is a Cryptozoologist, Secrets, Sexual Content, and they are dating, brief miscommunication/misunderstanding, how do i put this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:47:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,051</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26993053</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sierraadeux/pseuds/sierraadeux</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil has been searching for something—someone—for the past ten years of his life. Dan would like to think he tells his boyfriend everything, but he just can't bring himself to tell Phil that his search is over.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Howell/Phil Lester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Like a moth to a flame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He wasn’t supposed to fall in love. </p><p>And yet here he is, having that kind of slow, gentle sex that makes his head float higher than he’s ever flown. The kind that really means something, that makes him feel like he finally has a hold on something <em> real</em>. Something he so desperately wants to be settled and permanent—two words Dan has been running from for as long as he can remember. </p><p>The lights are off, of course—Dan doesn’t want to go getting distracted. Though he doesn’t suspect that has anything to do with how he’s having a hard time distinguishing where he ends and Phil begins. </p><p>“I love you.” The words rattle against Dan’s collarbone, followed by wet, open-mouthed kisses. </p><p>It takes him a moment, a low, whiny exhale of breath as Phil bites at his skin, for Dan to realize the words didn’t leave his own lips. </p><p>He’s been thinking them, his mind shouting as loud as it possibly could this entire time. He thought they had just slipped out. That seemed more realistic than Phil saying it himself. It makes him laugh, actually, chest vibrating while he slides his hands up warm, damp skin to cup Phil’s face and pull him back up. </p><p>Dan kisses the sentiment right back into his mouth. </p><p>Phil’s too clever for his own good. He’s smarter than anyone who’s ever been on Dan’s trail. Which, Dan guesses doesn’t mean all that much considering he’s the type of cryptid that seems to attract the more eccentric idiots. </p><p>An eccentric idiot Phil may be, but he’s also a bit of a genius. And pretty… and kind and sweet and funny and-</p><p>Where was he? He’s getting off track. </p><p>Most never got close enough. If they did, Dan would turn them right in the other direction. </p><p>There was that one nice guy that brought him a bottle of wine, in some sort of offering or gesture of good faith he guesses. But there are also the ones that call out to him, making horribly offensive renditions of what conspiracy theorists claim Dan sounds like. His sensitive ears do not appreciate that. </p><p>There’s the ones that act like they’re hunting him for sport, Dan thinks those people are the most fun to fuck with. That’s usually where he gets himself into the most trouble, having to move along quickly from place to place whenever he manages to attract too much attention. </p><p>There’s also the weirdos that offer themselves up, fully nude in the middle of whatever woods Dan’s prowling around, begging Dan to either fuck or eat—or fuck <em> and </em> eat—them. Those are just plain funny. Bring him a pizza at least, you know? Human flesh just seems so… chewy and tasteless. </p><p>Phil wasn't one of those, but the irony isn’t lost on Dan—considering that he is unknowingly fucking the cryptid himself. </p><p>Phil got too close all on his own, and instead of pushing him away, Dan emerged from the shadows. And before he knew it, Dan had burrowed himself a home. </p><p>So it’s all his fault, really. But there’s not a single cell in his strange body that would let him say it’s a mistake. Phil is the opposite of a mistake. He’s the opposite of everything bad. The opposite of Dan, himself. Phil is the light that allows Dan’s shadows to exist. </p><p>And Dan is so fucking in love with that light. </p><p>It did hurt. It hurt to know that Phil wouldn’t dare utter the words if he knew who- <em> what </em> Dan really is. </p><p>He isn’t just a man, but a moth. <em> Mothman </em> is what most people call him, though Dan doesn’t like that very much. </p><p>Sometimes he wishes he was one or the other. He yearns to be a man, but he often dreams of being a mindless moth—sacrificing himself to the incandescent sun. </p><p>He guesses he’s already done that though. </p><p>He turns his head to look at Phil in the darkness of the room. He’s fast asleep on his side, a hand draped over Dan’s middle. His face would be the picture of serenity, if not for the red glow of Dan’s eyes cast on his soft, pale skin. </p><p>Dan blinks, lets the room fall into darkness again. He can only make out the vaguest of shapes with his ordinary human eyes, but he manages just fine as he shuffles over and cups Phil’s cheek. He presses a featherlight kiss to the space between Phil’s brows and then settles in, letting sleep take him before that low, happy buzz starts up in his throat. </p><p>Falling in love wasn’t a part of the plan. </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, can we talk?” Phil says one night, just after dinner. On the television in front of them the credits of an anime they put on and mostly ignored roll, Dan scrolling his phone while leaned into Phil’s side, Phil mostly chewing at a hangnail despite Dan’s persistent attempts at shooing his hand away from his mouth. </p><p>Phil’s hesitant tone doesn’t come as a surprise to Dan, he’s been halfway to Mars all night. His eyes were distant as they cooked dinner, staring into the rolling boil of the pot as if he were somewhere else entirely. </p><p>It put Dan on edge, just the slightest bit. He gets that way too, from time to time. But there’s something different about Phil’s voice, the downturned corners of his lips as Dan shifts to sit up and properly look at him. His strange heart starts to flutter at a faster tempo. </p><p>It’s as if he can already feel it cracking into two, and Phil has yet to even take a second breath. </p><p>Dan leans forward to grab the remote off the coffee table and turns off the television, taking the time to collect himself in an attempt to not become a total blubbering fool over the guy he’s been dating for less than a year breaking up with him. </p><p>Who’s apartment even is this? Their clothes are all jumbled up in the wardrobe in the only room down the hall. Dan traveled often before all of this, and so did Phil—unwittingly following him for far longer than they’ve known each other. The shared cheap IKEA dishware in the kitchen cupboards are the first he’s ever truly owned, and he’s not even sure if they’re considered his or <em> theirs.  </em></p><p>This was stupid, stupid and foolish, and Dan knew that when he decided to stay.</p><p>It’s all crashing down on him now—the roots he let grow from his feet suddenly feeling cold and damp instead of their usual warm embrace. He hadn’t even noticed he allowed them to clip his wings. </p><p>He hears the low, panicked buzz in his ears and takes in a deep breath through his nose, letting it out slowly with clenched teeth before the sound can become audible. </p><p>A hand reaches out—a soft, warm hand—and wraps around his own. Dan looks to Phil. </p><p>“Dial the brain down, love, your thoughts are too loud,” Phil says, rubbing at the back of Dan’s hand. </p><p>Dan huffs. The smallest drop of relief spreads through his bloodstream. Your significant other wouldn’t call you a pet name if they were breaking up with you, right? <em> Right?  </em></p><p>He leans into Phil’s touch, looking at the most humanly blue eyes with a crease between his brow. </p><p>“You can’t just <em> ‘Can we talk?</em>’ someone,” Dan says in a hush, shoving gently at Phil’s thigh while Phil makes that face he always does whenever Dan does a poor attempt at his accent. </p><p>“Sorry,” Phil says, making his voice go deep and extra northern—just to make Dan laugh. </p><p>It works, he does, and the drop becomes a steady stream. </p><p>“I’ll just get out with it.” Phil squeezes at Dan’s hand and then switches off the tap all together. </p><p>“I think I’m going to go back to Point Pleasant.” </p><p>Dan can no longer tell if the frantic noise in his ears is leaving his throat or not as Phil continues to speak. He pulls his hand away. </p><p>“I just,” Phil sighs, leaning back against the couch, “I was stupid to think it was here, you know? Like, don’t get me wrong, I like it here. I like being closer to home, but my calculations were all off. Every sighting I’ve looked into has been worse than the Chicago hoaxes—like, seriously, who mistakes a <em> pigeon </em>for Mothman?! They make the owl theory less laughable.” Phil wipes his hands over his face, looking over at Dan. </p><p>Dan stares back blankly. </p><p>“Out of everywhere in the states, Russia, Germany, nothing has felt more concrete than Point Pleasant. I think it’s time-” </p><p>“That’s just a tourism scheme, you know,” Dan grasps at straws in a low, pained voice. It’s true, to an extent. He was a bit reckless there, the locals were fun to mess with. He hadn’t realized how far they would take it until it was too late and they were erecting hideous statues in his honor. He’s left it alone for quite some time now, offended that they labeled him as some harbinger of doom. But for some reason it stuck there unlike any other place he’s traveled to, falsely naming him an American cryptid, declaring it his hometown. </p><p>Phil bought into it. If only he knew he was just holding Mothman’s hand… </p><p>If only he knew… </p><p>Dan shakes his head, the words coming out of Phil’s mouth sounding more like a mumbled racket of nonsensical sounds, like the adults in Peanuts cartoons. He stands abruptly, leaving the room and disappearing down the hall before he does something even more idiotic than falling in love or creating a home. Something stupid like sprout wings in the middle of their lounge, just to find out if it would make Phil stay. </p><p>Toxic. It’s a toxic mentality, Dan is well aware. He has no hold over Phil, he can’t just force him to stay put, simply because his heart aches in a way that makes him lose his breath as he sits on the edge of their bed and shoves his face into his hands. </p><p>The guilt immediately washes over him, wracking him in quiet shakes as his hands and cheeks become wet. He doesn’t know what he feels worse about: keeping secrets and lying to Phil all this time or the intense desire to hold him down, keep him from sprouting his own wings. </p><p>The lines are all crossed and tangled. Dan struggles to find a way out, like he’s just ran his hand through his knotted, curly hair only to get his fingers hopelessly stuck. Phil is chasing what’s already here. That’s what makes it hurt so much. </p><p>Dan is <em> right here. </em>It’s not fucking fair. </p><p>“Hey,” Phil’s soft voice somehow cuts through the buzzing in Dan’s ears. </p><p>“<em>Hey</em>,” closer now, footsteps, “you’re crying. Don’t- why are you crying?” </p><p>Dan feels a hand at his knee, another at his folded in shoulder, the warm presence of a body kneeling by the bed. “Shh,” Phil coos. The hand at his shoulder kneads into the fabric of his shirt. </p><p>“I’m sorry I upset you,” Phil says through his quiet, comforting hushes. “I was trying to ask if you’d come with me.” A shaky huff of air blows through Phil’s nose. “I should have led with that, I mucked it all up.” </p><p>Dan mumbles something into his hands. </p><p>Phil’s hand runs across his shoulder. His fingers comb easily through Dan’s hair, pushing his curls up off his forehead. “What’s that?” </p><p>“You’re not the one that fucked everything up,” Dan says louder, but still muffled by his hands. A heavy sigh leaves Dan’s chest. With the exhale of breath, a different feeling is able to stake claim. Determination. </p><p>He stands, leaving Phil still crouched by the side of the bed as he slips out from between warm and soft and soft and warm to stand in the middle of the room. Phil makes a small, surprised noise, clearly confused by the stealth and speed Dan has never let him see. He looks up, disoriented, and Dan hates the way he feels as he catches the small exhale of relief at Phil’s shoulders when he meets his eyes. </p><p>That will be the last feeling of relief Phil gets anytime soon—save for when he runs out of here and returns with the police or MI6 or whatever. </p><p>“Dan wha-” </p><p>“Please just don’t say anything,” Dan cuts him off, his voice wobbling as much as his unsteady fingers while he lifts his tee shirt off. He quite likes this one, doesn’t want to tear it to shreds alongside his heart. “You’ll be screaming in a moment anyway,” he adds under his breath, so low Phil probably doesn’t pick it up. </p><p>Dan looks up when his shirt hits the floor—the thump of fabric against carpet too loud in his ears as his body starts to change. Phil is standing now, still in the spot by the bed as if his feet are bolted to the floor. There’s an unreadable expression on his face, one Dan doesn’t think he’s seen before. Fear, probably—unlike any of the faces Dan has memorized during late night horror movies cuddled up on the sofa or when they get into jumpscare wars around the flat. </p><p>His blood runs cold for a fraction of a second before everything begins to burn. Dan is used to the fire in his veins by now, flexing his fingers by his sides as he becomes the very monster he’s always been. </p><p>The fire is in his eyes, and the room is awash in their glow as his wingspan blocks the soft light that was streaming in from the street-lamps out the window. </p><p>They get a lot of the details wrong, some just a little off-kilter, and some right on the nose. Or, well, ears. He still has his human ones, though he gets far more use out of the soft, feathered antennae that sprout from the top of his head. They’re useful, he’ll give them that, but they have a nasty habit of knocking a few curls out of place every time he transforms. </p><p>He can sense and smell Phil so much stronger in this form. It swims around his head and almost makes him lose balance in his stationary spot. It’s probably what attracted him to Phil in the first place, though he’s been careful to keep his distance when he changes since then, never truly testing that theory. </p><p>Dan becomes softer as a whole, all of the human hair on his body changing with him, turning into those tiny, fluffy scales that cover moths’ bodies. They reflect similar colors to his hair and skin and are barely noticeable unless incredibly close or if touched. Dan doesn’t let anyone get close. He never has. </p><p>What is noticeable though, from great distances away, getting him in trouble from time to time, are the huge, very visibly fluffy wings that sprout from his back. They could envelop his entire body in an instant, a nine foot wingspan—yes he <em> does </em> measure, frequently—of soft black with faint silvery grey eyespots at the bottom of his hind wings. Dan’s forewings become somewhat of an extension of his arms. He stretches them out wide with a small, satisfied whine, just as he would flex his human fingers, before letting them fall to his sides. </p><p>The red glow of his eyes remains as strong as ever, but the harsh red wash of the room softens with the return of the dim light from the street below. </p><p>Phil… isn’t cowering. He isn’t running out the door. </p><p>Dan’s fluttery heart quickens as Phil stands there as normal, as if Dan hadn’t just transformed into a giant moth freak. Phil pushes his glasses further up his nose, cocking his head to the side the slightest bit with a squint. </p><p>“I thought he’d have chest hair,” Phil says simply. His voice doesn’t shake or waver at all. He says it like he’s just made a comment about the weather on a normal, grey-skied day. </p><p>Dan’s brows fly up at the absolute absurdity of it. “<em>Wot?”  </em></p><p>“You know,” Phil lifts a hand to bat it in the air, “like the statue. He’s got chest hair.” Phil takes a few slow steps forward, looking Dan up and down. “You don’t.” </p><p>“You’re not… freaking out?” </p><p>Phil shakes his head, his nose scrunching and his lips pressing together in that cute way they do. </p><p>“I just revealed to you that I’m Mothman—the guy you’ve been searching for the past decade of your career—and you’re more worried about my chest hair than <em> literally </em>anything else?” Dan’s voice rises in pitch as he verges on the edge of hysterical disbelief. </p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry,” Phil says in that soft voice of his. He continues to step forward, until Dan can feel his breath tickling at the minuscule hairs on his face. “You’re lovely. Really, incredibly lovely.” Phil lifts a hand between them, but stops with his palm open just a whisper from Dan’s cheek. Blue eyes meet red, Dan seeing far too much of his own reflection in Phil’s dilated pupils. Dan takes the last step forward, shrinking his posture ever so slightly to nuzzle his soft cheek into Phil’s palm. He lets his eyes blink shut, Phil holding every ounce of Dan’s trust in his hand. </p><p>“Beautiful,” Phil murmurs, stroking at Dan’s cheek. Dan’s throat starts to vibrate on its own accord. His wings, too. “So pretty.” </p><p>Dan preens, shuddering and shaking out his wings. He’s almost embarrassed, unable to stop himself from filling the room with the hum of his happy buzzing. Phil won’t stop singing him hushed praises in the air between them, and that’s just what he is. Happy. </p><p>Because Phil isn’t running or screaming or crying- Dan stills. He can smell the moisture at Phil’s eye before even blinking open his own to watch the tear stream down his cheek. </p><p>Dan lifts his head, Phil’s hand sliding down his neck, and raises a wing to swipe his soft thumb at the tear rolling down Phil’s cheek. Phil takes in a breath, but lets it out in a honey-sweet hum at the feeling of Dan’s odd skin against his. </p><p>Dan hums himself, turning into a light chuckle as Phil seems to wobble forward, wanting to lean into the feeling when Dan pulls his thumb away. He doesn’t register he’s doing it until his thumb is between his lips, tasting Phil’s tears. </p><p>He looks up, watching Phil’s face go red as his eyes widen. But in the glow of Dan’s eyes, Phil is smiling, a silent huff of a laugh leaving his lips as he puts it together. </p><p>“Sorry,” Dan says once he removes his thumb from his mouth, letting his arm fall to his side. If he could blush in this form, his face would be as red as Phil’s. “Force of habit.” He leans forward and kisses at the delicate skin under Phil’s eye—for good measure—licking his lips while he rolls back on his heels. </p><p>Phil’s laugh becomes audible, and his smile more lopsided as he closes the gap between them. </p><p>“You’re such a <em> moth.” </em>Phil brushes their noses together, his words tingling against Dan’s lips. It isn’t said in a derogatory way, or a terrified way. It’s said with a warm fondness that envelops Dan whole. A loud buzzing once again takes over the room. </p><p>“Oh my god,” Phil giggles between them, “you’re a fucking moth.” </p><p>“Well, duh.” Dan bumps the tip of his nose against Phil’s cheek, presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his smiling mouth. He lifts a wing, casting a shadow over Phil’s face as he does a little shrug. “Did the wings not give it away?” </p><p>Kissing him is probably like kissing a vibrator on its highest setting at this point, but Phil doesn’t seem to have any complaints as he crashes their lips together. Dan can barely think, so he doesn’t. With a surprised squeak against his mouth, Dan wraps his wings around his boyfriend and pulls him as close as humanly—mothly?<em>Mothmanly?</em>—possible. </p><p>Everything is so heightened, like this. Dan’s sure if his wings weren’t held tightly around Phil he’d be flying with how absolutely <em> light </em> and airy he feels. Phil’s hands find him everywhere, his own damp cheeks—both of them leaking with happiness, <em> relief </em>—his hair, his neck, up and down his bare chest. </p><p>When Phil’s shaking hand presses against the inside of his wing, his fingers buried in the plush softness of it, Dan’s legs liquify as an absolutely undignified noise leaves his mouth. Phil swallows it and holds the both of them up without the help of Dan’s Jell-O legs, not once letting up on his petting at Dan’s wing. </p><p>Dan doesn’t need to open his eyes to see the smug expression on Phil’s face as they both discover this particular weakness of Dan’s for the first time. He can sense it all the same. </p><p>They stumble back towards the bed, Phil moving his hands from where they’re buried in Dan’s wings to his hips with an amused huff, realizing that Dan truly would melt right into the floor if he didn’t. Even with the loss of the feeling, Dan’s still a bit wobbly, and he lets Phil steer them as he continues to press kisses to the smirk on Phil’s lips. There’s only two near-trips, saved by an outstretched wing, and Dan finds his footing before he simply floats away, just enough to push Phil back and climb into his lap once he’s wiggled up to the head of the bed. </p><p>And then he’s Jell-O again, where Phil would typically find purchase in the curls of his hair, he now runs open, flat palms through the softness of Dan’s wings. The noise in Dan’s throat is loud, filling the room as it mixes with the low, incredibly human, hums that Dan swallows whole. </p><p>The thing about Phil—the thing about loving Phil, having Phil as a chosen partner in life—is that even the most normal, mundane things never stop feeling new and exciting. So it isn’t like being <em> settled </em> or <em> long-term </em> has ever been synonymous with <em> boring </em> or <em> bland </em>to them, especially so when it comes to sex. </p><p>But this- this is something so entirely new Dan is almost feeling overstimulated by the simple, steady movement of Phil’s hands brushing up and down his wings. Much more intense than that extra shudder from teeth against his neck or a warm tongue swirling around a nipple. The tremors wracking his body feel as though Phil has two fingers pressed deep inside him with his cock in his mouth and not… still mostly clothed with both hands at his wings—fingers far from any orifices. </p><p>It’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced, and all he wants is <em> more.  </em></p><p>The fumbling brings Dan back to reality, if only slightly. They laugh and knock limbs that somehow feel so foreign and new—despite them being a part of Dan nearly his entire life—as they attempt to wiggle out of their clothes. </p><p>“Should I just like-” Dan gives one last stretch of his wings, letting the span of them canopy the bed as he hovers over Phil. Phil, who is rubbing at his shoulder from the accidental whack he got when Dan came back up from pulling his jeans off with too much enthusiasm. </p><p>“No!” Phil says quickly, shaking his head fervently. “No, don’t,” he adds, softer. There’s nothing but wonder in the wide blue eyes looking up at him, and Dan feels the same so viscerally in his chest looking back down at Phil that he nearly forgets how to breathe. </p><p>The hands returning to his wings don’t do anything to help the situation. He lets himself fall, finding life in Phil’s lips, letting it fill his lungs. Senses are heightened in this form, and Dan is overwhelmed by every single one fixating on nothing but Phil. </p><p>There’s a moment, where Dan is crawling back up damp skin and Phil is laughing—his entire face lit up with his teeth and tongue on show, triggered by his own huffy muttered pun of <em> “MothDan</em>” whilst Dan was sliding his fingers out of him—where Dan just feels <em> whole.  </em></p><p>“Absolute nightmare of a man,” Dan manages to get out through a smile so fond his face starts to ache, shaking his head as he swallows whatever protest Phil had in response. </p><p>When he pulls back, lip caught between his teeth as he squeezes at Phil’s thigh, he’s met with the distinct lack of a red glow cast across Phil’s face. He blinks a few times, adjusting to the odd feeling of human eyes in moth body, and hums low in his throat at the look of absolute adoration—sappy fucking <em> love</em>—on Phil’s face. </p><p>“At least they got the ass right on that statue,” Phil muses with a soft slap. He keeps a hand there, kneading and pulling Dan closer while he lines himself up. The touch grounds him. Honestly, Dan’s just desperately trying to prevent his bones from liquifying at the tight grip Phil’s other hand has on his left wing. He can’t believe he’s been missing out on this for so long. </p><p>It isn’t the excitement of something new, Dan realizes, but the feeling of finally being <em> himself. </em>All of Dan laid bare for Phil to perceive, take in, and reach out for. And Phil is doing exactly that—with that same overwhelmingly transparent look on his face that Dan knows so well. </p><p>No secrets or hiding. Just the two of them, giving each other everything. </p><p>Dan rolls his eyes. His hips follow suit. </p><p>“Shut the fuck up, Phil.” </p><p> </p><p>Phil spills over Dan’s hand with a hushed mantra of, "<em>I</em><em> found you, I found you.” </em>Dan kisses away every tear. </p><p> </p><p>“So what about Bigfoot?” Phil asks, absently tracing circles into Dan’s knee. It tickles, but it’s not like Dan’s gonna ask him to stop. They’ve found themselves both sat up in the middle of their bed. Knee to knee, cross-legged in nothing but their pants, Phil asks every single question that passes through his brain and Dan tries to give him every single answer. </p><p> </p><p>The highlights include such hits as: </p><p>
  <em> “How did you become Mothman? Is there a moth mum?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dan simply shrugged. “Just got bit by a moth.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Moths can bite?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah, I’ll show you.”  </em>
</p><p>And:</p><p>
  <em> “Is that why you’re so…” Phil pursed his lips.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So what? Sexy? Irresistible?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Annoying.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dan shoved at Phil’s shoulder, making him fall back on the bed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Nocturnal. That’s the word I was looking for.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dan rolls his eyes, unable to stop the twitch at the corner of his mouth. </p><p>“Oh my god,” Phil whispers, eyes going wide. “He’s real, isn’t he? Dan. Dan.” Phil puts both hands on his knees and starts to shake him. Dan simply allows himself to be jostled around, swaying back and forth as Phil’s voice goes louder, more insistent. He can’t help the wide grin on his face. </p><p>“Tell me he’s real!” Phil shuffles forward, nearly sitting in Dan’s lap as he starts to accost his shoulders. “Will you introduce him to me? Please? Where is he? Let’s go r-” </p><p>“Phil,” Dan cuts him off, voice exasperated. He grabs at Phil’s wrists, squeezes before prying them off his shoulders so he doesn’t start to get fucking seasick in his own bed. “I am <em> not </em> helping you fuck Bigfoot.” </p><p>“I don’t want to fu-” </p><p>Dan gives him that look. That <em> don’t you dare try to lie to me right now </em> look. Phil’s words die on his tongue. He pouts. </p><p>“Okay, well. Fine,” Phil huffs, crossing his arms—thank god. “Wouldn’t you if you had the chance?”</p><p>Dan lifts a brow, making sure to take a crystal clear mental image of the look on Phil’s face as he does, and then pushes himself back to stand up and leave the room. He walks backwards, reveling in the absurdity that is Phil shooting straight up, standing right on the bed and jumping down with a loud thud as sounds fly out of his mouth at a mile a minute. Dan bolts down the hall. </p><p>“Oh my GOD! DAN DID YOU FUCK BIGFOOT?” </p><p>Dan can hear Phil’s feet clambering after him—somehow, miraculously, over the sound of his own witch cackles. </p><p>“DAN DID YOU FUCK BIGFOOT? DAAAAAAN! DID YOU? DAN! STOP IGNORING ME!”</p><p>Dan saunters into the lounge and plops down on the sofa. He makes a whole lazy show of turning the television on and leaning back against the cushions, desperately trying to bite back his laughter while ignoring the racket stumbling down the hall. </p><p>He really likes this place, shame the neighbors will be complaining about the screaming <em> Bigfoot fuckers </em> stomping around after midnight. </p><p>The Phil cyclone isn’t long to make landfall, storming in mere seconds after Dan settles into the sofa. He towers over him, blocking the TV. Dan makes a fake impatient click of a noise with his tongue, moving around in every direction as if he’s trying to look past him. </p><p>“Yeah I did,” Dan says casually with a shrug. </p><p>He watches with amusement twitching at his lips while Phil’s eyes go wide, his jaw dropping to the floor. </p><p>With that image in front of him, Dan can no longer hold back his loud laughter. He bends over, grabbing at Phil’s calf until his knee is bending and he’s wobbling. Phil falls forward, a knee on the sofa cushion by Dan’s thigh and both hands gripping at the back of the sofa to pad his fall. </p><p>“-just a bit ago, actually,” Dan completes his thought with a smirk. He slides his hand down Phil’s leg, squeezing at his ankle before letting go to dance the tips of his fingers, featherlight, across the bottom of his foot. Phil’s face falls into Dan’s neck, his huffy giggles tickling at Dan’s skin as he wiggles around in an attempt to get out of his hold. </p><p>“I hate you,” Phil groans into his neck. He stops his resistance with a light bite at the skin just above Dan’s collarbone. </p><p>“I love you, too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>feel free to <a href="https://sierraadeux.tumblr.com/post/631886907844001792/like-a-moth-to-a-flame-e-5501-words-danphil">rebloggy</a> or just come bug me on tumblr<br/>may or may not be tempted by any and all spooky halloween fic ideas/prompts :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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